Saturday, November 18, 2006

Interning & the Souring Client

I have to admit, one of the perks that came along with my internship in Kuwait was dealing with the company’s clients. You have the elderly crowd with the genuinely humble Old Kuwaiti feel to them who also tend to stick to less risky (read: mundane) strategies and marketing techniques, and the younger crowd who are more responsive to innovative ideas that are not so hum-drum and repetitive.

The younger crowd is, of course, made up of many dashing lads clad in their crisp dishdashas. Yes, that was a perk in my internship. That surely was.

Once, I accompanied an employee to one certain client I had seen before in the company’s office. He was absurdly handsome, successful (mostly from his daddy’s money), and had Ivy League plastered all along the walls of his new, splendid office.

As soon as we entered the room, I was transfixed by his confidence and good looks. However, something horrific happened: he started to speak.

I honestly believe that I have never in my life have come that close to committing suicide right there on the spot. His confidence turned to arrogance as he shoved away the project at hand and went off tangent to discuss his wonderful horse rides on the mountainous regions in Spain. What was even more suffocating was his lack of humor and humility. My perspiring colleague was grinning at him, robotically nodding and pretending that he was actually being entertained by this monstrous brat. I smiled as well, although I was very close to breaking into a sob because the man did not have one funny cell let alone a bone.

Mr. Void of Character kept looking at me, smiling, and I smiled back courteously even though my facial display came from pitch black pity at this unfunny creature. The poor thing thought that I truly enjoyed his one and a half hour long (yes, I counted the minutes) anecdotes about his superficial lifestyle. The only real smile surfaced when I fantasized about springing up on his polished desk and kneeing him in the face to knock some mature yet comical sense into him. We were soon rescued by his female partner, the actual heart of the company, and finished our business in ten minutes flat.

After the torture session was over, I had a thought: no matter how well-educated, loaded, or gorgeous a man is, if he does not know how to spin a good joke, well, that just shows that he doesn’t have the smarts to do so.

Spontaneousnessity posted at 10:14 AM
I hear ya load and clear.. yet for some reason people never approach me this way, I think I have a sign on my forehead that says "aware the devil within" or something.. bs bsra7a meftakka =}